


Three Words That Became Hard To Say

by leyley09



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2012-2013 NHL Lockout, Friends to Lovers, M/M, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-30
Updated: 2016-09-30
Packaged: 2018-08-18 15:12:13
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,790
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8166368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leyley09/pseuds/leyley09
Summary: “Danny, Danny, have you seen this?” Wayne waves his phone back and forth.“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Simmer.” Danny pulls his sweaty undershirt over his head and drops it on top of his bag.Wayne crosses the locker room and shoves his phone in Danny’s face. Displayed on the screen is a picture of Claude in some kind of business, possibly a bank, holding a baby. A baby that, at a shallow level, looks a lot like Danny. Jesus fuck.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I stumbled across this picture of Claude, and Danny and I had a lot of feelings about it. In the process, I realized that this was the perfect opportunity to use their infamous "ich liebe dich" video which has been sadly underutilized in fanfic so far. (If you haven't seen it, well, you'll get most of it in this fic, and I'll link it at the end.)
> 
> Thanks to ChelseaIBelieve and D for the reads and betas and helping me make sense in multiple languages. As always, if I've mangled something not-in-English, let me know!
> 
>  
> 
> Title from The Avett Brothers "I And Love And You" (for what should be obvious reasons)

“Danny, Danny, have you seen this?” Wayne waves his phone back and forth.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Simmer.” Danny pulls his sweaty undershirt over his head and drops it on top of his bag.

Wayne crosses the locker room and shoves his phone in Danny’s face. Displayed on the screen is a picture of Claude in some kind of business, possibly a bank, holding a baby. _Holding a baby_ . A baby that, at a shallow level, looks a lot like Danny. _Jesus fuck_.

“Didn’t know the Brioux’s were reproducing,” Wayne says with a loud laugh and an elbow to Danny’s right kidney.

The laugh echoes through the guys near enough to hear -- except for Claude. His blush clashes terribly with his hair.

Danny rolls his eyes. “Very funny, boys, ha ha. That joke is definitely not getting very, very old.”

The group moves on to chirping someone else, easily distracted since Danny’s not reacting as extravagantly as they’d hoped. Danny watches Claude out of the corner of his eye. After a moment, Claude joins in, teasing Brayden about some girl he was after last night. But he doesn’t look once in Danny’s direction.

Danny sighs internally and goes back to changing. He sees his phone flash from the depths of his bag. Crouching down, he pulls it from underneath a spare pair of socks and unlocks it to find a message from Wayne. It’s the picture of Claude with a short message - **for your free time**. He shoots a glare at Wayne; he gets a wink in return.

He shoves his phone deep into the bag and heads for the showers.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Later, though, when the boys are in bed - or at least in their rooms - he takes a beer into the family room and makes himself comfortable on the couch. He debates trying to catch up on something on the DVR or maybe finding that book he picked up at the airport last week… but instead he pulls out his phone. He scans through his email, scrolls through Twitter for the news, and then gives up and opens his messages. He opens the thread from Wayne and takes a minute just to look at the photo again.

It’s not as if he’s never seen Claude with kids before; he’s seen Claude with plenty of kids in the last couple years, including his own. But it’s different to see Claude crouch down next to a smiling seven-year-old during a photo op and another thing entirely to see him holding a baby in his everyday clothes. It would be stupidly adorable if it was just some baby, but this baby - this baby looks like, like, _like theirs_. Hair dark like Danny’s, but curly like Claude’s; eyes the same color as Danny’s, but shaped more like Claude’s. This could be their child, out for a day of errands with his dads.

Danny puts the phone down and buries his face in one of the throw pillows on the couch. He was trying to get over this thing for Claude, this thing that’s made everyone they know tease them for over a year now. Deep down, he’s a little scared that’s why Claude moved out over the summer. He’d been doing really well this season keeping it buried - or so he thought. This text from Wayne suggests otherwise. He picks his phone back up and replies to the message - **I hate you** . A reply of **haha do not** comes a moment later. This is ridiculous. He might as well go to bed and get some sleep. As he plugs his phone in to charge overnight, he has a moment of weakness; he saves the photo to his phone.

The next day, he decides to delete the picture. After practice. Then after their game. Then after he gets home. Every morning for a week, he thinks “I need to delete that later today”, but later never seems to come. The handful of times he gets so far as into his photo gallery, he gets distracted by Claude’s happy smile, the silhouette of muscle underneath his shirt, or the careful way he’s holding the baby with his big, capable hands…. And well, anyway. For certain reasons, the photo never does seem to get deleted from his phone.

After a while, he gives up on telling himself he’s going to delete it. By the time they get into the first round of the playoffs, he’s almost forgotten about it. When they get kicked out of the playoffs, he does forget about it for almost a month.

He rediscovers it while looking for a different photo altogether. He looks at it for several minutes; his phone locks itself four times before he decides to keep it. It’s not like anyone else is ever in his phone. No one has to know it’s there but him.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“So what are you going to do if we get locked out?” Even through the phone, Danny can hear the anxious quiver in Claude’s voice.

Danny wedges the phone between his ear and shoulder so he can use both hands to empty the dishwasher.

“My agent’s looking at offers from European teams.”

“Which teams?”

“I’m not actually sure. He said he called around to several, but he didn’t give me a list. I know there was at least one in Switzerland, a few in Germany. Might have been one in Sweden.”

“Mine is too; he actually just called me about a team in Berlin.”

“Berlin, huh.”

“Yeah. It looks like a pretty good place to play.”

No one says anything for a few minutes. There’s the clink of dishes as Danny moves things to the appropriate cabinet or drawer, and from Claude’s end, there’s the low murmur of a television. He can just barely hear Claude breathing; it’s a surprisingly calming sound.

“Wouldn’t it be cool if we could play for the same team?”

“We do play for the same team.”

“No, I mean in Europe.”

“You’d want to play with me, even when you don’t have to?”

“I always want to play with you, Danny,” Claude replies, matter-of-factly. “Don’t be silly.” Like this is a known fact, right up there with ‘the sky is blue’ or something.

“That--” Danny has to stop to clear his feelings out of his throat. “That would be pretty cool. Where, um, where would you want to play?”

“Anywhere, I guess. As long as you’re there, I don’t really care.”

Danny lays his head on the counter. It’s all he can do not to bang his head a few times; if Claude hears what he’s doing, he’ll get an unpleasant lecture about brain trauma.

“I’ll have my agent call yours, they can coordinate.”

The front door slams open, and the house is filled with loud voices and pounding feet.

“Boys home?” Claude’s grin is audible through the phone.

“Gee, Clo, how’d you guess?”

“Is that G?” Cameron shouts, sliding across the tile in his socks. “I want to talk to him!”

“Hold on, hold on.” Danny holds him back with a hand in his face. “Clo, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“Yes, Danny--” There’s a little pause. “Danny, you know you can call whenever you want, right? You don’t have to schedule it. You’re never...you’re never imposing.”

 _Jesus fucking christ_. “Thanks, Clo. You, you too.” Danny tries to muffle his sniffle. “Here’s Cameron.”

“Bye, Danny.”

Cameron snatches the phone from his hand and runs towards the hall. “G, oh my god, you totally missed it, Carson…” his voice trails off into indistinct noise as he moves down the hall and up the stairs.

Danny leans over the counter, elbows planted and face in his hands. Claude wants to play with him. Not just hockey anywhere he can get it, but with Danny specifically. And he sort of just said to call him more often. Danny doesn’t really know how to process either of those things.

“What did G say this time?”

Danny startles and looks up. He hadn’t heard Caelen come in.

“What?”

“What did G say this time?”

Danny frowns. “How did you know I’d been talking to Claude?”

Caelen rolls his eyes. “Because you look a little like you’ve been hit in the face with a bucket of water. That’s basically what you look like every time he calls.”

Danny drops his face back into his hands. A moment later, he starts to laugh. He probably sounds a little hysterical, but he can’t stop. He can hear Caelen rooting through the fridge, clearly ready to wait him out. Eventually, the giggles fade. When Danny straightens up, Caelen’s at the table with a bottle of Gatorade.

“He wants to play together in Europe. If I go.”

“You should go, you know.”

“To Europe?” Danny snags a bottle of water from the fridge and joins Caelen at the table.

“Yeah. And you should go with G.”

“Why?”

“Can you imagine G wandering around Europe unsupervised? That’s a disaster waiting to happen.”

Danny laughs, shaking his head. “That’s a good point.”

“And--”

“And what.”

“And I think you’d really miss him, if you went by yourself.” Caelen keeps his eyes on his bottle, fiddling with the label.

Danny looks down at the table, tracing random patterns with a finger. “You don’t think I’d miss you guys?”

"No, you will. But you’re used to not seeing us - whenever you have road trips, or whatever. I mean, I know it’s not the same; it’ll probably be longer than that, but you know. Even when you don’t see us every day, you are seeing G. It would be way weirder for you to be playing hockey without him.”

Danny nods, watching his finger on the table. After a minute, he realizes what he’s drawing - a 28.

“Just, just don’t try to stop him, if he wants to go with you. Okay? Don’t talk him out of it.”

“Okay.”

“Alright.” Caelen pushes his chair away from the table and stands. “Good talk, Dad.”

Danny snorts. “Yeah, bud. Hey, Caelen?”

“Yeah, Dad?”

“Thanks.”

An hour later, Danny finds his phone balancing precariously on the upstairs banister. He takes a minute to text his agent to get in touch with Claude’s about any European plans.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

The phone rings several times before Claude picks up.

“ _Allô_ ,” comes the sleepy mumble.

“Clo? Did I wake you?”

“Danny.” The fondness in Claude’s voice puts a hitch in Danny’s breathing for a moment. “I was just napping.”

“We’ve got an offer. From a team in Germany.”

“Yeah? Where in Germany?”

“Berlin.”

“Okay.”

“Is that… is that it?”

“Yes?”

“You don’t have any opinions on that?”

“Berlin looked pretty awesome. And I told you, where we go is less important, as long as I can play with you.”

 _As long as I can play with you_. Jesus, Claude’s trying to kill him.

“Yeah, it did. We should probably learn some German.”

“You think we’ll need to?”

“Can’t hurt right?”

There’s a sudden burst of noise on Claude’s end of the line -- doors opening, people yelling indistinctly.

“Having company?” Danny asks with feigned shock.

Claude laughs. “Sort of. My cousin’s kids want to play street hockey with me, so I think I’m sort of babysitting this afternoon.”

Danny can just see it, has seen it in fact. Claude will play hard, play dirty even, and then lose in ridiculously dramatic fashion because he likes happy children. “I’ll let you go then, get to it.”

“Right. And Danny?”

“Yes?”

“I’m really excited about this.”

Danny knows he’s blushing; he’s glad the boys aren’t home.

“Me too, Clo. Me too.”

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

There’s a dull thud as Claude’s head comes to rest heavily on Danny’s kitchen table. “Why did we decide to play somewhere that doesn’t speak French or English again?”

Even though he’s not looking, Danny tries to fight off his fond smile. “Something about new experiences and Berlin ‘looking cool’, I think.”

“This is stupid, I’m never going to remember all this.”

“You don’t have to remember all of it, Clo,” Danny reaches for the phrasebook Claude’s been studying. “You just need to pick a handful of important phrases. Berlin’s got a lot of English speakers, so we may not need any of this, but it’s a nice gesture.” No response from Claude. “And wouldn’t it suck to find the one person who doesn’t understand English when you’re desperately in need of a bathroom?”

Claude sighs dramatically. “Fine, fine. I don’t want this whole book though. Can we just make a list that I can focus on?”

“Sure. That’s not a bad idea.” Danny pulls a notebook from Caelen’s pile of homework and tears out a couple of sheets.

A couple of minutes later, they’ve settled on a few useful phrases and are laboriously transcribing them, both correctly and phonetically, when Cameron wanders into the kitchen.

“Whatcha doing?”

“Making a list of German phrases your dad thinks we need to know,” Claude replies, focusing intently on copying his last one. He looks up to smile at Cameron and slides the list closer so he can read it. They lean over the paper together, Claude slowly reading the different phrases for Cameron.

A pang of something painfully fond shoots through Danny’s chest. He has always loved how Claude interacts with his sons, right from the beginning. All three love him, but Cameron in particular has always been very attached. He knows Cameron misses having Claude living with them; right now, Danny is too.

“You forgot one.”

Danny blinks, confused. “What did we forget?”

“I love you.”

The wall clock ticks loudly in the silence that follows.

“Why do we need to know that in German?” Danny asks, warily.

“Because, Dad,” Cameron says in his ‘Dad-don’t-be-so-silly’ voice, “you always say it’s the most important thing. So you should know how to say it in German too.”

Like most child-logic, it doesn’t make much sense except for how it does. Danny does tell his boys that love is the most important thing, and he tells them he loves them all the time. But he can do that in French or in English. There’s not much of a chance that he’ll need to know how to say ‘I love you’ in German in the few months they’ll be there; he expects he’ll only be saying it to his boys or maybe his mom over the phone.

But. Cameron looks so serious about this, and this is - in Danny’s opinion - a very important life lesson for his youngest son to learn. So he nods and reaches for the phrasebook again.

In the days remaining between their decision and all of the red-tape/paperwork being cleared and contracts being signed, it almost becomes a joke. Almost. It becomes the go-to answer whenever anyone asks if they’re learning German.  Danny knows Claude is practicing it because his pronunciation gets better and better. However, Claude never brings it up. He’ll respond if Danny says it first, and it always sounds like he thinks it’s a great joke. Danny knows Claude; if he truly thought it was that funny, he’d bring it up himself.

Danny’s afraid to ask why he’s practicing it.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

They arrive in Berlin after a long flight out of Newark. With the necessary stop, it’s been almost 14 hours since they left for the airport. They did fly overnight, which Danny appreciates. He managed to sleep for most of it, but it’s not the good, restful kind of sleep that you get at home. He’s a little bit foggy when they finally make it out of customs with their luggage.

They’re met by a surprising number of people, press, and a camera crew. Apparently they’re more noteworthy than he’d expected. It’s fine though; if this is what he has to deal with to play hockey, it’s worth it.

They take a frankly ridiculous number of photos. He takes a minute to mock Claude’s choice not to change into something more presentable before landing. The sweatpants he’d stayed with look like they’ve been worn for 14 hours. Claude just rolls his eyes; he’s practically immune to chirps about his fashion choices at this point.

They go directly from the airport to the practice facility where they get a tour and get to meet their new teammates for the first time. And then they’re suiting up and on the ice for their first practice. There are a number of other North Americans on the team, including some of the coaches, so practice feels pretty much like any other hockey practice Danny’s ever been in. They stop for a few pictures with the crowd on the way back to the locker room. It’s been awhile since Danny’s been exposed to Claude + small children; it’s just as distracting as he remembered.

As they climb into the SUV taking them from practice to a press conference at the main arena, the woman who’d been directing the camera crew hands Danny a small personal camera and asks him to film some one-on-one interaction with Claude as they drive.

A couple of minutes later, he’s managed to interrupt Claude’s conversation with the other occupants of the car long enough to explain what they’re doing.

“You don’t get to have all the fun though,” Claude insists. “I get to film some too.”

“Okay, I’m going to turn it on now, hold on…” Electronic devices like this never seem to work easily for him, so it takes a minute to get it on and filming, which means he has to get Claude’s attention again.

“ _Salud, Claude._ ”

Claude waves. “ _Hola_.”

Seriously, after all their practicing. “No, _hallo_.”

Just as they’ve practiced for weeks, Claude parrots back “ _hallo_.”

Danny will later claim he lost his grasp on his sanity at this point. This would have been the perfect opportunity to demonstrate some of the other German they’ve learned. He could have gone with “ _Ich bin froh hier zu sein_ ” or “ _Berlin ist schön_ ”, but instead he goes with something entirely different.

“ _Ich liebe dich._ ”

Claude, as always, responds as if this is the funniest thing he’s heard all day. “ _Ich liebe dich!_ ”

There are some chuckles from the front seat. Claude distracts everyone from the awkwardness Danny is feeling by adding another of the German words he’s managed to remember. He doesn’t get ‘Canada’ quite right, which he should be ashamed of, but Danny’s pretty proud of his own ‘ _danke_ ’. They get sidetracked by a car-wide discussion of the words and phrases they chose, and after a couple of minutes Claude wrestles the camera away from him, admittedly without much fight from Danny.

While he fiddles with the buttons and features, Danny picks up his phone to answer texts from a couple of new teammates. He confirms plans to get together in a couple days and asks about the best places to grocery shop in their neighborhood.

The problem with Claude having the camera is that, as soon as he has it, he’s trained it on Danny and is more or less interrogating him. He’s ridiculous.

“Danny, who’re you texting, who do you know from Germany?”

Danny can’t help laughing; he sounds like a jealous girlfriend.

“Jimmy Sharrow, right now, and T.J. Mulock.”

“Just a bunch of beauties?” Claude’s rolling his eyes over top of the camera - he’s always made fun of how quickly Danny makes ‘friends’.

“We’ll find out soon,” he replies with a smile, getting the laugh he was after.

“What do you think of Germany, uh, since we got here?”

Aware this is probably going directly to the team website, Danny is very serious when he answers. “It’s wonderful, so far.”

“Yeah?” Claude’s got both eyebrows raised. Danny can almost hear him thinking “we’ve barely seen any of Germany yet.”

“Great start, good practice.” He looks back down at his phone. Somehow he’s opened up his photo gallery; the last photo he was looking at stares back at him. Time to close that before Claude spots his own face on the screen.

“Did you work hard?”

Danny laughs again; that’s his standard question for the boys whenever he picks them up from practice. “I worked hard, but I don’t think it was very good.”

“But did you, did your team win or -- did the old guys or the young guys--”

He talks right over top of Claude’s question. “Yeah, I think the old guys won.” They didn’t even come close, but that’s not important. What’s important is making Claude laugh.

Claude’s eyes widen; clearly he wasn’t expecting that. “No, no, Danny --” (and god, does he love to hear Claude say his name like that) “-- don’t be lying.”

Everyone chuckles. He knows he’s smiling too much for this conversation, but it’s hard not to beam excessive fondness at Claude when he’s letting himself be teased.

“So, ah, what’re you gonna do right now, where’re you going?”

Like he doesn’t know the answer; he’s going to the same place. He’s not sure where this line of questioning is headed. “Big press conference.”

“Oh yeah?”

He’s pretty sure his face does a “yeah, duh” thing at Claude; he’s starting to get nervous.

“Do you...gonna speak German?” The question pauses a little weirdly in the middle, like maybe that’s not what he meant to say at first. It’s also quieter, almost hesitant compared to the previous questions. But it’s the question itself that shorts Danny’s brain for a second. They’ve got a standard answer for that, but Claude’s never been the one asking the question before.

Claude’s been mostly watching him through the screen, but now he looks up to make eye contact. He looks...not quite scared, almost a little challenging. Like he’s daring Danny to say something but isn’t sure he’ll like the answer.

“Yeah,” Danny says quietly; he feels like he should answer this the way it was asked. “ _Ich liebe dich_.” He can’t help the smile that follows; he’s never been able to help the smile the follows.

Claude laughs - almost with relief? - and finally turns the camera away from him. He sets it down on the center console. “So I lost my phone.”

“Already?” That may be a personal best.

Claude talks into the screen himself for a minute about how often he loses his phone before they’re told the arena is just around the corner. He passes the camera off to the front seat so he can dig through his bag looking for his phone again. Danny tries not to dwell on the fact that this is the first time Claude’s not said _ich liebe dich_ back.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

“Danny, what is this?” Claude’s voice drifts into the kitchen from the living room of their apartment.

“What is what, Clo?” Danny calls back, too busy straining pasta to go look.

“This,” Claude answers from right behind him. Danny jumps, banging the now empty pot against the side of the sink.

“Jesus, Clo,” he gasps. He sets the hot pot off to the side and turns to see Claude holding out his phone - displaying that damn picture of Claude and the baby that should have been deleted months ago. _Tabarnak_.

“That is a photograph of you holding a baby.”

Claude glares at him. “I can see that. Danny, why is it on your phone?”

“Simmer thought it would be funny to send it to me.”

“And you saved it because--”

“Uh...that’s a really great question.” Danny can’t think of a reasonable answer actually, but he has thought of a question of his own. “What are you doing in my photos anyway?”

“I wanted a copy of the picture you took of the arena last night,” Claude frowns, “to send to my mom.”

“You couldn’t come and ask me to do it?”

“You were busy, and your lock code is stupidly easy - _4848_ , Danny? - I didn’t want to bother you. Stop deflecting and answer the damn question.” Claude glares, face flushed and fingers of one hand tapping a frustrated rhythm on the counter.

He could continue the deflecting, turn this into an actual fight, and never answer the question. He wouldn’t have to tell Claude why he saved the photo, mostly because Claude wouldn’t be speaking to him for who knows how long. He could answer the question, find out for sure Claude doesn’t share his feelings, and watch their relationship get slowly more awkward and uncomfortable. It’s a tough decision; he’s been keeping his feelings from Claude for a reason.

“Well, Danny?” Claude snaps impatiently.

He’s got to give him some kind of answer. He decides that he’s going to give ‘it was an accident’ a try, but once again, his brain-mouth filter malfunctions.

“I saved it because I liked it.”

Claude’s expression transforms abruptly from annoyed to surprised. “You...liked it? But why? It’s just me holding some random baby.”

Claude’s so adorable when he’s confused. He gets this crinkle on his nose and more around his eyes, and Danny really wants to kiss him when he looks like that.

“Do you remember when Simmer showed everyone that picture? What he said?”

Claude blushes and looks away. “‘Didn’t know the Brioux’s were reproducing’,” he mutters.

“That’s why I saved it.”

Claude blinks a few times, slowly, then looks back at Danny. “You saved the picture...because the baby looks like ours?”

Danny swallows thickly and nods.

“Why does that matter?” Claude asks quietly.

“Because I want it to be,” Danny answers hoarsely.

“You want -- with me?” Claude’s mouth falls open in shock.

Danny rolls his eyes fondly. “Why do you think everyone’s still teasing us about being married?”

“Because I’ve been in love with you since rookie year?” Claude claps a hand over his mouth, eyes wide in horror.

“You what?”

“Oh my god, Danny, how did you not know this?” Claude flings his arms wide in excessive demonstration. “Everyone knows this. People who don’t even know us know this.”

“I don’t know,” Danny answer, rescuing his phone from Claude’s hazardous grip and setting it on the counter, “how did you not know how I feel about you? My _kids_ know, for christ’s sake.”

Claude buries his face in his hands. “Oh my god, we’re so _stupid_.” He starts to giggle and ends up leaning against the counter, laughing and gasping for air.

Danny leans against the opposite counter and waits for him to pull himself together. Eventually, Claude takes his hands away from his face and sighs. He grasps the edge of the counter and looks at Danny seriously.

“So, while I was living with you…”

“You were driving me fucking crazy.”

“Really?” The shy smile that creeps across Claude’s face is one of the cutest things Danny’s ever seen.

“Really. When you told me you were going to move out, I thought I was doing a terrible job of hiding it and had made you uncomfortable.”

“No, Danny, no,” Claude shakes his head violently, ginger curls bouncing. “I was so scared I was going to give myself away. I figured it was better to move out before you had to ask me to leave.”

Danny laughs softly. “That was never going to happen, Clo.”

“Well, I didn’t know that, did I?” Claude looks down at the floor, watching as he traces the grout lines with a toe. “What was it about that picture that you liked so much?”

Danny watches that toe as well. It’s easier than trying to make eye contact right now. “I liked imagining that it was our baby you were holding, that we’d gone out to run errands and remembered that it was ‘baby’s first trip to the bank’ or something--”

“Clarke.”

“What?” Danny looks up, confused.

“Not ‘baby’. Clarke. With an ‘e’.” Claude blushes again, studiously watching the floor.

“Clo, _mon cher_ , have you already named our hypothetical baby?” Danny chuckles. “And after Bobby Clarke?”

“It had to start with a ‘C’ so he’d fit in with his brothers,” Claude protests over Danny’s laughter.

Danny feels like his face is going to crack from his smile right now. This ridiculous man… “Clo-”

“Yes, Danny?”

“Why are you still standing all the way over there?”

A smile creeps gradually across Claude’s face. He pushes away from the counter and moves across the scant space towards Danny. He crowds in closer, pressing Danny back against the counter and leaning in close.

“Is this better?” He murmurs into Danny’s ear.

“Much better,” Danny breathes. Claude radiates heat all along the front of him, but it’s still a slight shock when his hand comes to rest along the curve of Danny’s right hip. “Much, much better.”

“Now that you’ve got me over here, what are you going to do with me?” Goosebumps run down the back of Danny’s neck, following the path of Claude’s breath.

“I, I-” He wanted Claude to do _something_ , he knows he did, but he’s having a lot of trouble focusing right now.

“Come on, Danny, I need you to tell me what you wanted.”

Oh god. How is he forming sentences right now?

“I want-” but what he wants disappears in a burst of neurotransmitters as Claude draws his thumb slowly across the skin over his hip. “Shit, I- dammit, Clo.”

Claude chuckles, low and quiet. “I have a couple ideas of my own, if you don’t mind.”

“ _Oui, s'il te plaît!_ ”

Claude’s ‘ideas’ are much less straightforward than Danny ~~has~~ would have imagined. He would have guessed Claude would go immediately to the kissing they both know is coming, but instead he starts where he is. Just-barely-chapped lips press just below his ear. There’s a light scrape of facial hair against the skin. More goosebumps race out from that spot across most of his body. Lips press again, a little further down, against the pulse hammering through his arteries at a speed far above the actions taking place. It takes two more repetitions of the press-and-scrape before just enough neurons fire in a row to remind Danny what he actually wanted. This is great, this is _amazing_ , but it would be even better if he can get that mouth on his own.

“Clo, _mon cher,_ _embrasse-moi s'il te plait._ ”

“ _Tu n'as qu'à demander_.”

There are birds chirping outside. Danny only hears them for a second - just long enough to think “just like a Disney movie” before he stops thinking again. There’s no point having actual thoughts when he can focus instead on the way Claude’s lips catch and move against his own or the way it feels to dig his fingers into Claude’s traps.

“Danny,” Claude murmurs...eventually.

“Mmhmm?” Danny would answer more clearly, but he’s got a mouthful of Claude’s collarbone and _priorities_.

“Can we - _câlisse_ \- can we move this somewhere else?”

Danny makes a noise that mostly translates to “why”.

“I just - _crisse_ , Danny - I have things I’d like to do that will be a lot easier somewhere more… more… fucking English, what is the word?”

Danny has to pause at that to giggle into Claude’s shoulder. “Horizontal?”

“Yes, goddamn it, horizontal.”

“Clo, it’s the same word in French.”

“Shut up, Danny, I’m distracted.” He sounds disgruntled, but his grip on Danny has actually gotten tighter.

Danny tips his head back enough that he look into Claude’s eyes. “Yes, we can move this somewhere else.”

Claude’s smile starts out delighted and slowly morphs into anticipatory. “ _Fantastique_ .”

He drags Danny out of the kitchen behind him.

 

They never do get around to the pasta.

 

EPILOGUE

 

“How’s Philly?” Danny tucks his scarf a little tighter around his throat before heading out into the chilly Berlin afternoon.

“Covered in American Thanksgiving,” Claude complains, voice a little scratchy through the phone. “There are turkeys everywhere.”

“And your shoulder?” The breeze picks up along the Spree, reaching through his jacket to nullify the effects of the weak sunlight.

“It’s fine.”

Danny stops and leans against the concrete wall along the _Oberbaumbrücke_ , eyes on the arena across the river. “Let’s try that again. How’s your shoulder?”

“Ugh,” Claude groans. “It hurts, okay, but it’s fine. It’s better than it was before I left.”

“Good.” A train rattles over the tracks across the street. A barge on the river blows a horn at something Danny can’t see. “Are the boys taking care of you?”

“ _Évidemment_. Caelen said you threatened to cancel Christmas if they didn’t nurse me back to health.” Claude’s sleepy chuckles do more to reassure Danny than his words.

“I’m worried, you would be too.”

“Mmmm. _Tu me manques._ ”

“ _Moi aussi, ma foi_. I wish I was there.”

“Soon.”

Danny watches the river traffic for another couple of minutes, happily listening to Claude breathe and wondering if he’ll fall back asleep before the call ends.

“Don’t you have a game to be at?” Claude eventually murmurs.

“I’m only 10 minutes from the arena.”

“On the bridge?” He can hear Claude’s smile, knows he’s remembering the last time they walked across this bridge together. After an evening game, Claude had dragged him into the shadows under the train tracks to kiss him in public, ‘just because he could’.

“Yeah,” Danny murmurs back. “It’s a nice spot.”

“It is. But if you don’t hurry, you’ll have to rush your routine.”

“Fine, fine. I’m going.” He pushes off the wall and heads across the bridge. “Did you get the package I sent?”

“Yeah. I haven’t opened it yet, like you asked.”

“Go ahead, open it now.” There’s a rustling of bedding and Claude grumbling under his breath about having to get up, like he didn’t know that’s why Danny was calling. After a moment, he hears the sound of tape ripping, paper crinkling loudly, and finally, a loud gasp from Claude.

It’s been almost a month since Claude had to go back to the US, after his injury. It’s a six hour time difference between Berlin and Philadelphia, so Danny’s had a lot of time on his hands when he’s awake but Claude (and everyone else at home) is still asleep. He thinks mindless online shopping is fairly harmless. He couldn’t trace the path that led him to looking for baby clothes, but once he’d seen the onesie with “ich liebe dich” printed across it, he couldn’t pass it up.

“What do you think?”

“Ohhh, Danny…”

The last time Claude said his name like that, well, they weren’t looking at baby clothes. Danny clears his throat awkwardly and hopes other pedestrians think he’s flushed from walking. “So you like it?”

“It’s wonderful.”

“It’s probably a little soon, but--”

“Someday.”

“Yeah.” He makes the turn onto _Mühlenstraße_. He’s got to end this call soon, but he really doesn’t want to.

“Call me after the game?”

“ _Absolument_. Be good for the physical therapist.”

“Yes, okay, fine.” Claude grumbles. “ _Je t’aime_.”

Danny grins widely. “ _Ich liebe dich, schatz._ ”  

**Author's Note:**

> I feel like I described/transcribed this video pretty accurately, but if you'd like to see them in action (and you would, trust me), check it out here -- https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=68ghJypBc_s
> 
> I think most of the translations should be self-evident from context, but here are some of the more obscure:  
> Ich bin froh hier zu sein - I’m happy to be here  
> Berlin ist schön - Berlin is beautiful  
> embrasse-moi s'il te plait - Kiss me, please  
> Tu n'as qu'à demander - you only had to ask  
> Tu me manques - I miss you


End file.
